The Consequences of Grand Romantic Gestures
by Glitterycake
Summary: A series of missing moments centering around the events of the episode 'Seventeen Candles', involving Chuck running a certain errand the day of a certain Upper East Side princess's birthday party, and the consequences of that gesture. C/B
1. Running an Errand

_Author's Notes:_ This is my first Gossip Girl fan fiction. When (if) you review, please let me know how I did in terms of the characterisations and Americanisms. I'm Australian - so I just want to make sure I have the right words for everything. Thank you for reading my story! It's not a one-shot, and there's more to come. This story will closely follow the storylines of the episodes from 'Seventeeen Candles' to 'Much "I Do" About Nothing'.

_Disclaimer:_ Anything you recognise is not mine.

**Chapter One: Running an Errand**

Casting a nervous glance to his left and right, Chuck Bass entered the destination for his final errand before Blair Waldorf's seventeenth birthday extravaganza that night. A jewellery store. He was half-laughing to himself as he strode purposefully towards the counter. It was true that he had money: the Bass name was synonymous with money. It wasn't as though he didn't belong in his current surrounds. He did. They all did. She especially did, he thought. Of course she would register here.

The whole point was, Chuck had never bought a girl any sort of jewellery. He'd bought himself a pinky ring, countless pairs of cufflinks and the occasional tie pin, but not girl jewellery. Women's jewellery. For a girl. Ugh. Buying a girl _any_ jewellery screamed commitment, in Chuck's opinion. Everything _always_ meant more to a girl. Every gesture a guy could make had some grand meaning in the scheme of things. And didn't she already have everything she wanted? What else could she possibly -

"Might I be of any assistance, sir?" The clerk, a woman in her seventies with white hair, eyed him suspiciously. Her name tag read 'Nancy'. Chuck started, his train of thought derailed.

"Yes. Nancy -" he trailed off, wondering if he really was going to carry out this final errand. He nodded to himself, straightened up, and began again. "Nancy. Yes. I'm here to examine the birthday registry for a Miss Blair Waldorf."

Nancy's face lit up with recognition. "Oh yes, she was in here just today. She's registered for some absolutely beautiful pieces. There are some divinely gorgeous earrings, and a stunning ruby ring, I believe."

"Would I be able to look at the complete list?" Chuck asked.

"Oh, of course. If you'll just wait a moment, I'll look it up on our system. I'll be right back." She left, and Chuck stooped awkwardly, leaning auspiciously over the countertop, drumming his fingers on the clear, no doubt recently-polished, glass.

"All right, sir, here we are. This is the registry for Miss Blair Waldorf. It is itemised according to price, lowest to highest." Chuck took the list from the clerk, barely scanning the first three pages of the four-page list. Turning to the final page, his eyes dropped to the last item on the list.

_ERICKSON BEAMON DIAMOND TEARDROP NECKLACE, price on request._

"Nancy, I'd like to purchase the last item on the list. The diamond necklace," Chuck clarified, trying to get his words out quickly before he could take them back. The clerk's expression turned into one of shock. "But, sir, the price -"

"The price doesn't matter. I'm Chuck Bass."

"Well, all right then. You must hold quite a torch for this young lady," Nancy commented. Chuck didn't want to respond, and Nancy seemed to sense his unease.

"All right, so, the diamond necklace. It's a lovely item. Would you like it gift-wrapped?" Nancy seemed a little flustered.

"Yes, please," he responded. Nancy retrieved the necklace from another glass cabinet, along with a black velvet box to hold it. She skilfully set the necklace into place on the velvet inlay, closed the lid, and wrapped Blair's gift. She shook out a paper bag bearing the name of the store, popped the now-wrapped present inside as gently as possible, and handed the bag to Chuck.

"She's going to love it," Nancy enthused. Chuck nodded. Blair might love this necklace, but she definitely wasn't going to love the giver.

Nancy went on to say, "As is the custom with our registries, should Miss Waldorf enquire about the registry, she will find out that the necklace has been purchased. However, she will not know who it was that purchased it."

_SPOTTED: Chuck Bass ducking in and out of a jewellery boutique in the UES. We saw the shopping bag. If it's not for himself, who is it for? Of course, a certain UES princess celebrates her seventeenth birthday tonight. Maybe it's a favour on behalf of her Prince Charming, to throw our B off the scent? I don't know about you, Upper East Siders, but there's a scent I'm picking up on - the scent of a scandal._

After arriving home from his errand, and after a visit from Nate, which resulted in his friend nearly seeing the bag containing Blair's gift, Chuck set the bag from the jewellery store on his nightstand, then flopped down onto his bed. All of a sudden, he was exhausted. It didn't help that he hadn't slept at all the night before.

When he woke a couple of hours later and rolled over to look at the time, the first thing he saw was Blair's present. He groaned and flipped over again, so he wouldn't have to look at it. It was exactly what she wanted, but he was definitely not the person she felt she should be receiving it from_. _Of course, he definitely wasn't the person she felt she should have been losing her virginity to, either, thought Chuck wryly.

"But never mind all that," Chuck said out loud to himself, flipping back over and winning a staring contest against the bag. The nail marks Blair had left on his back during their escapades in his limo seemed to throb on cue. "Let's review the situation. She's not a virgin because of me. She didn't lose it to Nate..."

_Oh, damn it. Nate._

"So I give her the necklace, and then what do I do?" Chuck asked the bag. It gave no discernable answers. It looked like Chuck was just going to have to grit his teeth, give Blair her damned necklace, and find the answers for himself.


	2. Afterglow

**Chapter Two: Afterglow**

Blair woke up early the morning of her seventeenth birthday. She slipped quietly and quickly out of the bed she had shared with Chuck, got dressed (in last night's clothes, for what would constitute the most stylish 'walk of shame' in history), called a Town Car in a hushed tone, and set about picking up the myriad collection of gaily wrapped birthday presents to load into the car.

Before she left the room, she sneaked a glance at Chuck's sleeping form. He was lying on his stomach, his right arm laid out across the Egyptian cotton duvet, curled slightly like he was protecting something – or someone. Blair shivered. Not so long ago, she had been tucked gently beneath Chuck's arm, his fingers tracing her forearm lightly in his sleep. As Blair turned to leave, Chuck stirred. Blair took advantage of the rapidly closing window of opportunity to quickly slip out, closing the door silently behind her.

She left her stilettos behind in her haste.

The first thing Chuck became aware of when his eyes opened was that there was now nobody in the bed beside him. His arm was curled around a non-existent figure. He rolled over and looked at the clock. 7:23 AM.

"Christ, who invented such an hour?" he groaned, sliding his protesting limbs out of the warm bed. His feet hit something hard as they landed on the floor.

"What the hell –", Chuck muttered, looking down at what he'd touched. A pair of stiletto heels lay at his feet, positioned standing up and perfectly parallel to one another. Chuck smiled: it was just so _Blair_ to line up her shoes so neatly. Everything had to be perfect on the Isle of Blair.

What people still didn't know was that Chuck had been watching the reigning monarch of the Isle of Blair fall apart over and over again.

He kicked the shoes away gently, partly to avoid tripping on them in preparation for the eventuality of his aching bones deigning to allow him to stand up, and partly because he knew that if Blair could have seen him do it, seen him kick her carefully arranged heels out of line, it would have driven her insane.

He was somewhat surprised that he knew exactly what would get to Blair, and briefly wondered if Nate had any idea what really got Blair's blood boiling, apart from Nate's stupid tricks, like having sex with Serena, or not finding her at the masquerade due to being busy telling Serena he still loved her, or being caught having it out with Serena in Chuck's suite –

Or anything involving Serena, really.

Chuck knew that Nate and Serena's affair was the albatross in Blair and Serena's friendship. It was like a millstone around the neck of the relationship. It dragged down the possible trust they could hope to share, made everything a little more complicated, a little more political, the insults more calculated, just as a result of simply knowing what they knew about one another.

There was nothing else to do in the room anymore. Blair had left him alone. Chuck got up from his position seated on the bed and reached for his shirt, which someone – Blair, most likely – had hung from the wardrobe door on a padded hanger.

Chuck smirked. He now officially had a preview of what it would be like to be married to Blair Waldorf. Fanatical, obsessive-compulsive tidiness. And padded hangers, which only served to remind him of padded rooms. Padded rooms, usually found in an institution of a different kind.

_What the f - ?! _Chuck mentally slapped himself on both cheeks. _Marriage? Blair? Marriage to Blair?!_

"How the hell did that come to my mind, anyway?" he asked the empty room. He was jolted by the beeping of his cell phone. One new message. _This ought to be good, _he thought to himself.

_C – have u seen my shoes? xx B_

Chuck laughed out loud. Of course it was going to be about the shoes. Not a 'good morning, how are you?' No, it was 'Have you seen my shoes?' Chuck selected the 'Reply' command and typed:

_B – oh, they're yours? 2 bad, they're 2 comfy 2 give back. ; ) C_

The phone beeped again.

_C – I knew u were in2 some freaky stuff but this takes my 17__th__ bday cake! lol, give 'em back! xx B_

He typed as quickly as his fingers would let him.

_B – I give! When do u want em back? I'll send my driver over. :p C_

Another beep.

_C – why don't u give them back 2 me personally? ; ) xx B_

He hit 'Reply' again, typed his message, and pressed 'Send'.

_B – since u asked so nicely of course! xx C_

And another beep.

_C – I'm home alone rt now... xx B_

His thumb hovered over the 'Reply' button, hesitating. Blair wasn't even in the room with him and yet he felt like she was taking up all the available space in there. She wasn't there, and yet he could feel her in the room with him. He could smell her ridiculously enticing perfume, left behind on his shirt, could feel the fingernail marks she'd left when she held on to him while they both saw stars for a second time, could see the shiny patent leather of her damned shoes. The force was pressing down on him.

It was all suddenly looking serious. 'I'm home alone rt now'. It meant, 'come over, I want to see you again'. Home alone with Blair, and what the hell did she expect to happen? They slept together twice, and to anyone, it could be a relationship. Chuck suddenly felt angry. This wasn't in the plan. There was, in fact, no plan. There was just Blair kissing him, and him kissing her back, holding her close while he took her to the end of her innocence, all the while praying it wouldn't hurt her, and fastening the diamond necklace, the stones glowing around her delicate neck.

And they'd had sex. Again. Blair wouldn't even be able to mention it aloud. She would slip in some sort of euphemism for it, like 'done it' or change it to the nauseating 'made love'. Chuck preferred to call a spade a spade. She was texting him for a booty call now and she didn't even know what that would reveal to Chuck.

Hmm. It was funny how people always thought they really knew someone they'd grown up with.

She must have been thinking she would be the exception to every rule he made. He didn't want her to guess, to overanalyse it out of existence. He must have known her well, because he knew damned well that she would. She wanted answers he couldn't give her. It couldn't just be texting for a booty call.

There was a deeper meaning to it all, and Chuck didn't want to face it.

He couldn't reply to her last message because he didn't know what it was that he wanted to say. Anything he could say might turn this – him and Blair, whatever it was, anyway – into something more real than he thought he could ever have a hope of getting used to.


	3. So Long, and Thanks for the Shoes

_Author's Notes:_ Thanks to everyone who reviewed/favourited/author alerted/story alerted my little story! Here's another chapter!

**Chapter Three: So Long, and Thanks for the Shoes**

"Miss Blair, Mr. Chuck is here to see you," Dorota called up the stairs.

Normally, such news wouldn't perturb Blair at all, but now that the entire Blair-Chuck dynamic had shifted from platonic to... decidedly non-platonic, thought Blair wryly, she found herself bouncing up from her bed, slipping her feet into silver flats, and shaking her hair back behind her shoulders.

The door opened before Blair had a chance to start for downstairs. She looked at him for the briefest second and then turned her attention to straightening the items on her nightstand.

"Hey, Waldorf, it's only me. What's with the manual labour and the primping?" Chuck asked her, a teasing note in his voice. "You looking to, uh, impress someone?"

Blair blushed and immediately cursed herself for doing so. "I just like my room to look good, that's all," she replied lamely.

"Anyway," Chuck said, "I brought you something."

"Oh really, what's that?" Blair asked with her back to Chuck as she continued shifting the things on her nightstand. He sidled up behind her. Blair's hands stopped tidying the nightstand and froze in place. What was he going to do?

"I've got your shoes," he said. "You were expecting another Erickson Beamon necklace, perhaps?"

Blair laughed nervously. "No, of course not, thanks for returning them..."

"What, Blair? Sorry, I can't hear you properly when you talk to me without facing me," Chuck admonished her gently, "Why don't you turn around and repeat your last statement?" He put out a hand to brush her shoulder softly, sweeping her hair away so that her delicate neck was exposed. He was about to drop kisses on her neck when she asked quietly, "What are you really here for, Chuck?"

Chuck stood up straight again. He'd been considering his answer to this particular question ever since she'd left him alone in bed on the morning of her birthday, and he still didn't have a response. He didn't know what he wanted from Blair. He felt slightly frustrated, not least because being this close to Blair had him outrageously turned on, but because Blair _wouldn't stop_ wanting answers.

Unfortunately for him, though, he'd perpetuated Blair's romantic delusions by kissing her, having sex with her, giving her jewellery... and now she wanted an answer that would only serve to create a dozen more questions. Questions that he most certainly was not interested in answering.

Blair turned around to face him. "I think you know that you can't avoid the question forever. This is serious, at least to me, and I kinda – well, I kinda thought it was important to you too." Her eyes were full of a hope that Chuck couldn't bear to crush.

"Why does everything I do have to be about something _more_?" Chuck finally burst out, "God, Waldorf. Why can't it be that I simply came over to return your shoes?"

"Because if that's really the reason – the _only_ reason – that you came over, you would have left by now, having completed your errand. But you're still here. My question is _why_," Blair said slowly, looking him directly in the eye.

"Waldorf, you know what I'm like," Chuck said, "You know I don't do this!"

Blair put her hands on her hips and drew herself up to her full height. "You're not doing a very good job of explaining yourself, Chuck."

"That's because I don't _want_ to explain myself, Blair. I don't want to explain myself or account for everything I do when it comes to you. I don't particularly want to acknowledge this. I'm sorry if you thought this was serious, but I was having a little fun. You're so on the rebound, you're practically bouncing."

Blair's eyes grew dark with fury. "You're disgusting."

Chuck smiled wryly. "No arguments there."

Blair opened a drawer in the nightstand roughly and snatched the familiar black square box out of it. She thrust it towards Chuck. "Take it back. I don't want anything from you."

Chuck backed away. "No, keep it, it was a gift."

"I don't care. I didn't want to receive it from you. You weren't meant to give it to me."

"Oh, shut up, Blair, just keep it. It's what you wanted," Chuck said sarcastically, "I'm not, remember? Who cares who gave it to you? You registered for it, it was fair game. God, even a _birthday gift_ has to have meaning now!"

He turned to leave the room, Blair still holding out the box to him. He was about to go through the door when Blair piped up quietly, "Who said you aren't what I wanted?"

Chuck stopped in his tracks and turned back around. "What did you say?" he choked out.

Blair stepped towards him. "I said, who said you aren't what I wanted?"

Chuck was floored. "Well, it would be weird if I was what you wanted, given how..."

"Given how, _what_?" Blair asked.

"Given how I..."

"Spit it out, Chuck," Blair said impatiently, "Or, you know what? Let me do the honours. You're actually scared of how you feel, not least because Nate is your best friend, but just because I'm different. For a start, I'm probably the first girl you did it with on more than one occasion, the first girl to whom you presented jewellery – and pearl necklaces do _not_ count, by the way. You're not sleeping. You have butterflies."

"What's your point, Waldorf?" Chuck asked impatiently.

"My _point_ is that you like me. My _question_ is: what are you going to do about it?"

"Okay, you know what, Blair? I can't do this. If you're asking me what I'm going to 'do about it', as you put it so eloquently, you're just being stupid on purpose. Because it means that you haven't realised what I _have_ been doing about it.

"You're right, okay? I don't give girls jewellery. I don't usually sleep with a girl more than once. So infer whatever you want from that, but don't expect more. I'm not wired to be with anyone the way you would want me to be with you.

"Don't ask me to change. I can't. I'll only end up disappointing you. Having sex with you was fun, it was amazing, actually, and yeah, you give me butterflies and I lie awake thinking about you, but Blair – save yourself. I'm not built to care about anyone for long, and I hate to say it, but I don't see how you would be the exception. You're just gonna get hurt."

Blair's face fell. "Done with your soliloquy, Bass?" she bit out.

"Blair, you wanted answers. I gave you an answer. But don't hold me responsible if you don't like that answer. It's more than anyone else would get from me."

"So I should consider myself lucky?" Blair spat, "I'm _lucky_ that I get so much from you that nobody else would stand a hope of getting?"

"Your words, not mine."

"So, even though you like me, you're not counting on it lasting long?"

"No, I'm not counting on it, and I wish you wouldn't either. But you kissed me in the limo, and you started this whole chain of events. I like you, Blair. I like you a hell of a lot. But I can't say how long it would last, and, you know, you just deserve better."

"But I want you," Blair whispered.

"Yeah, but how long for, Blair? You know it's one thing for me to tell you what I think, okay, but you have to consider what it will do to you when I inevitably stray. I've seen how you reacted to dear Nathaniel cheating on you, and that was only once."

"Maybe I'm willing to take a chance that you won't cheat on me," Blair replied.

"But I'm not, Blair. I'm just not. I'm sorry."

"You have to face how you feel sooner or later," Blair argued.

"I thought I had. Blair, I won't change for you."

"I never asked you to."

"You don't have to. I know you. And you have the right to expect... better."

"Oh, give me a break, Bass. I'm not suggesting marriage. I'm willing, if you are, to just explore this... see where it goes. We can keep it a secret, and if it's not working –"

"Yes, about that, Blair. What happens to us if it doesn't work? People would notice the change in our dynamic. You want to do this? You have to accept that we can never go back."

"I know that, I'm not stupid. You're just scared."

"So we've heard."

Blair growled in her throat and glared at Chuck. "So, this thing is over? So long, and thanks for the sex? That's it?"

"That's it, " Chuck affirmed.

"Get out of my house," Blair snapped. "You've given me back my shoes. You've done what you needed to do, now _get the hell out of here_. Why you didn't just send your driver is beyond me."

"You asked me to come, Waldorf."

"I didn't know that you _were_ coming, seeing as you never replied to my message."

"I figured my actions would speak louder than my words."

"No, I don't agree with you there. I think your words have spoken _much_ louder than your actions. Now. Get. Out."

"Going! Going!" Chuck exclaimed as Blair placed her hands on his chest and forcefully pushed him backwards towards the doorway and right out of it before she slammed the door, nearly trapping Chuck's fingers in the process. She leaned against the shut door while tears fell down her face, her breathing quick and shallow.

Unbeknownst to Blair, Chuck could hear her crying, and he fell against the door, hating himself for being the cause of her tears. He slowly reached down to the doorknob, preparing to twist it, when he heard the unmistakeable click that accompanies locking a door.


	4. Repentance

**Chapter Four: Repentance**

Blair defiantly flicked the locking switch on her bedroom door and continued crying her eyes out. She thought for a moment that she could feel Chuck leaning against the other side of the door, but dismissed that notion as a delusion. And after how he'd just treated her, why was she even _deigning_ to think about Chuck Bass?

Chuck _was_ still leaning against Blair's bedroom door. He considered raising a fist to knock, but decided against it. Instead, he slid downwards to sit against the doorjamb. And he stayed there for quite a while, until Blair decided to unlock the door.

"What part of 'get out of my house' did you not understand?" Blair raged at him when she found him sitting on the floor outside her room. "How long have you been sitting there, anyway?"

"About an hour."

"Yeah, well, you can actually leave this time!"

"I am an idiot," Chuck admitted.

Blair looked slightly mollified. "Keep going."

"Can I come in?"

Blair sighed deeply. "I guess. There's not much more you could do to destroy me now, is there?" She reluctantly helped Chuck up from his sitting position, and went back inside the room, motioning for Chuck to follow her inside. She shut the door and flicked the lock behind them.

"Believe it or not, Waldorf, that wasn't my intention."

"No?" Blair scoffed. "What was your intention, then?"

"This," Chuck said, tipping her face up to kiss her. Blair began to fall against him as he tried deepening the kiss, but instead put her hands out and pushed him away. Hard.

"What the hell, Bass?" Blair cried out, slapping at every part of him she could reach.

"The point is that you're right. I am scared. I still think you deserve better than this."

"Duh, I _know_ I deserve better than this," Blair snapped.

"I just want to tell you that when it comes to you, that I find resistance to be completely futile. I could prove to be hazardous to your emotional health. _You're_ already proving toxic to my mental state. I can't stop thinking about you. You're driving me insane, and I want you to keep driving me insane because I love what you do to me, Waldorf. _I love it_. I can't stop this. I don't want to stop this. I don't want to hurt you but I know I will.

"So, I don't know what to do here, Waldorf. Give me some answers instead," Chuck burst out, talking quickly, barely stopping for breath.

Blair glared at him. "Why couldn't you tell me this before?"

"I said I would destroy you one way or another. I can't commit to you. You'll hate it. But I want you with me so much it's scaring me."

"I don't know what to do here, Chuck. I mean, the more I think about what you said to me before, the more I realise you're right. It's going to be a mess, especially if anyone finds out, and we'll both get hurt. It won't be worth it in the end. But I'm not going to lie and say I don't love this too."

"So as long as we're both into it..."

"That's all we need to know."

They stared silently at each other for several long moments until Blair launched herself at Chuck, pushing him backwards into the door. Chuck opened his mouth to protest at being shoved painfully into a door before Blair unceremoniously, and without warning, cut him off, kissing him with an animal, almost brutal fervour. It hurt and yet neither of them could bring themselves to care.

Her scarlet nails trailed the back of his neck, digging into his skin, while his hands tangled themselves in her hair before one moved to the front of her shirt and tore the top button out of its buttonhole. Keeping one hand in her hair, he moved his lips to her neck and trailed a perfect line of kisses.

Without telling her beforehand what he was going to do, he lightly pushed Blair away and then picked her up, cradling her petite body in his arms. He walked over to Blair's bed, carrying her, and bore her down onto the mattress, her head softly hitting the fluffy pillows. She lifted her hands to grab his shirt collar and started to unbutton his shirt as she pulled him down with her...


	5. Pillow Talk, With a Side of Wit

**Chapter Five: Pillow Talk, With a Side of Wit**

They lay side by side under Blair's covers, staring up at the ceiling. Chuck turned over on his side, using his elbow to prop himself up. He looked over at Blair, who caught his eye at once and turned to face him.

"Hi, there," Blair said shyly, clutching the covers tighter around herself. Chuck had to laugh at her then; she was trying to cover herself up, even though the whole thing was pretty much a completely pointless cause, given that they'd now had sex not once, not twice, but three times, all of which had involved both parties being naked.

"What do you think you're laughing at, Bass?" Blair asked, a note of warning slipping into her voice.

"Nothing... you're just... I've seen it all before, Waldorf," he drawled teasingly, "What's with the death grip on the sheets?"

"Oh, I hadn't even realised I was doing that," Blair replied, but she did not loosen her hold on the sheets. Chuck slid over to her side of the bed, preparing to wrest the sheets from Blair's grip.

"Do that and my foot will be lodged so far up your ass," Blair warned him.

"That's an entry method I hadn't yet considered," Chuck said. "Blair, what are you worried about? It's just me. You're beautiful. Live with it."

"I bet you say that to all the girls," Blair retorted.

"The difference is that this time, I actually mean what I say."

"Another line you probably drop all the time," Blair scoffed.

"This is the most unromantic pillow-talk session I've ever been involved in," Chuck complained.

Blair turned over to her side and mirrored Chuck's pose, propping herself up on her elbow. A lock of her wavy brunette hair fell into her eyes, and she instinctively reached up to tuck it behind her ear.

Before she could, though, Chuck reached out and tucked it back for her, letting his fingers linger on her cheek. His fingertip moved downwards to trace her lips before he drew her towards him and kissed her lightly.

Holding her by the elbow, he turned on his back and pulled her on top of him.

"What's your obsession with me being on top?" Blair asked.

"Well, I like looking at your 'finer assets'. Plus, it gives my back a rest," Chuck stated seriously. "Your compulsion of tucking the sheets around you so tightly, like you're in a straitjacket, means I can't view the merchandise. I like to know what I'm buying."

"You have _such_ a death wish," Blair said snippily.

"A death wish?" Chuck questioned her innocently.

"Oh yeah," Blair said, reaching down to tickle him.

"Stop that!" Chuck yelped, "I'm ticklish!"

"So I've gathered," Blair smirked down at him, running her hand down between them. She was about to plunge it down even further when Chuck seized her inquisitive hand and drew it out from between their bodies.

"What?" Blair asked innocently, looking down at him through her lashes. He dropped her hand and reached around her slim waist to trace her spine and the small of her back with capable fingers. Blair shivered.

"What's up?" Chuck asked her, "Does it hurt?"

"No, it doesn't hurt, it just..."

"... Tickles?" Chuck suggested, tickling her under the arms. She retaliated in kind, resulting in both of them begging for mercy simultaneously and diving into another fierce make-out session. Her lips were swollen and red from too much kissing, and his eyes held a dazed expression.

"It's getting to dinner time, I should probably go," Chuck said from the underside of the nookie sandwich.

"Yeah..." Blair answered vaguely, looking thoroughly out of it.

"I think we should make this a regular thing, don't you?" Chuck suggested.

"Absolutely," Blair responded, drawing him back down for a final kiss. She smiled against his lips. "I'll walk you out." She got out of bed and stood up, completely naked.

"It's about time!" Chuck exclaimed. Blair blushed and seized the nearest item of clothing, a flannel nightgown, which she quickly threw over her head, not bothering with her underwear.

"I spoiled that opportunity, didn't I?" Chuck asked her rhetorically while buttoning up his Brooks Brothers oxford and fastening his black pants.

"Yep," Blair answered, smirking at him.

They descended the stairs holding hands. Dorota looked at Blair curiously, but must have decided it was none of her business (which, really, it wasn't) what Blair did, and slipped back into the kitchen, leaving them alone.

"I really had... a great time... with you today," Chuck said haltingly.

"Yeah, me too."

"I'll call you, okay?"

"Oh, yeah, if you think about it," Blair replied nonchalantly. She stood up on tiptoe, waiting expectantly.

He leaned in as if to kiss her again, but instead whispered, "I have to say, Waldorf, you even make flannel sexy."

"Why?" Blair asked him curiously.

"'Cause I know you're not wearing anything under there," Chuck replied, grinning impishly at her.

"Oh, get out," Blair said good-naturedly.

"Bye, Blair." Chuck said, kissing her on the cheek. He turned to leave, but Blair seized him by the elbow and kissed him forcefully.

"Bye," she replied, unlocking the apartment door to let him out.

Fifteen minutes later, her cell phone beeped.

_B – when can I c u again? xxx C_

She hit 'Reply' and typed a message, snickering to herself as she pressed 'Send'.

_C – 2morrow at school, like always! :p xx B_

Beep! Beep! Beep!

_B – oh, very funny. xxx C_

She hit 'Reply' and typed her next message.

_C – the face u make when u come? Now that's funny! :p xx B_

Beep! Beep! Beep!

_B – u ought 2 c UR 'orgasm face'! xx C_

Blair laughed out loud.

_C – so next time we'll do it in front of a mirror, and I'll get 2 c it! xx B_

Beep! Beep! Beep!

_B – KINKY! I had no idea... xxx C_

She replied:

_C – there's a lot u don't know abt me! ; ) xx B_

Beep! Beep! Beep!

_B – but i'm looking fwd 2 finding out! ; ) love from C._


	6. Cotillion Crazy

_Author's Notes:_ Wow, this story is building quite a profile! I have no idea how many chapters are still to come, but I think I have ideas for the episodes up to and including the season finale. Without further ado, here is chapter six. This is based just before 'Blair Waldorf Must Pie!', and the UES has already started to go cotillion crazy. The reason I say this is because in 'Hi, Society' the standard of the dancing at the practice shown in the episode seems to suggest they've been working on the dancing for at least a few weeks.

**Chapter Six: Cotillion Crazy**

Blair and Chuck were sitting at the breakfast bench in Blair's cavernous kitchen, their fingers laced together. Blair was talking animatedly about the upcoming debutante ball, the 'cotillion'. Blair didn't know that her talking about the cotillion was causing a series of tiny stabs of jealousy in his body. And he wasn't going to tell her about it.

"... So I was with the couturier yesterday, and I think I'm going to wear silver. It's got a split at the front, and yesterday must have been a lucky day, because I found _the_ most gorgeous shoes. I'm lead deb, so I have to look the best, of course. Oh, and the jewellery is a surprisingly simple matter. I'm going to wear the necklace you gave me...

"Hello? Earth to Chuck? Come in, Chuck?" Blair asked impatiently, "Are you even listening to me?"

He dropped her hand. "Yes, I'm listening, Waldorf. You're going to look amazing; you don't have to tell me that. I've known how amazing you are for quite a while."

"Something's bothering you. What is it?" Blair asked incisively.

"Nothing's bothering me, Blair. Look, I've got to get home. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

"We still have a couple of hours until Eleanor gets back," Blair wheedled, her fingertips skating along his thigh teasingly.

"Okay. Actually, something _is_ bothering me, Waldorf."

"What's that?"

"Who are you going with?" _Damn it. I wasn't going to let her know I was jealous._

"I'm not sure yet..." Blair trailed off. "Chuck, I..."

"I'm doing the cotillion too, Blair."

"So what are you saying?" Blair asked curiously.

Chuck got off the kitchen bar chair and stood up. "I'm saying that I want to go with you."

Blair flushed, a conflicted look crossing her face. "Oh, Chuck... you know we can't do that. I mean, I don't know who I'm going with – I'm obviously _not_ going with Nate... but, look, you know what? The best part of the cotillion is what happens _after _it ends, and of course we'll spend that time together."

"Yeah?" Chuck brightened.

"I've been planning on it for _weeks_," Blair assured him. "I've even bought something special for the occasion."

"Is that 'special something' an item of clothing that I shall have the pleasure of removing?" Chuck inquired.

"Maybe," Blair answered, winking at him.

"Oh, damn you, Blair," Chuck said, "Now I'm _really_ not going to be able to concentrate on the night. Well done."

"It's a cross I'm sure you'll be willing to bear," Blair whispered, leaning in for a kiss.

"Damn right I will," Chuck replied, circling his arms around her and pulling her closer to him, "So, is there anything on your schedule for the next two hours?"

"Just you," Blair answered. "I'll race you upstairs!"

Soon their brief discussion lay discarded on the floor, keeping company with their clothes, but Chuck couldn't shake the feeling of unease he had. He also felt a little appalled that he was still jealous, not least because he and Blair weren't technically 'together', but because, as he'd told Blair, he wasn't built for commitment.

_So why did I ask her to the cotillion like a whipped wuss? Could I have sounded any more like I was practically begging to be her escort?_

However, the main problem was that not only was Chuck starting to develop a prolific attachment to his 'friend with benefits', he was also startled to realise that he was rather _enjoying_ being attached to Blair. They had settled into quite a comfortable routine.

Chuck was beginning to like routine, too. To him, it meant sex practically on tap. It meant he got to spend time with the girl he liked.

They didn't even spend all their time together trying to set a record for ripping each other's clothes off in the shortest amount of time. Sometimes they'd watch a movie together. Blair's pick was always _Breakfast at Tiffany's_, and Chuck, to his chagrin, would find himself humming 'Moon River' for days.

The point was, what wasn't to like about the situation? Every time they had sex it was a new and exciting experience as he taught her what he knew, and on the occasions that the student became the master, they'd flop back down onto the pillows, exhausted and happy. Blair's head would move to rest on Chuck's chest and he'd stroke her hair. Chuck would look over at Blair, feeling such a rush of affection for her. He always went home with a stupid silly grin on his face after being over at Blair's.

It had, however, recently come to his attention that his affection for Blair was turning into something deeper. He didn't want her to know, just in case she came to her senses and dropped him for someone who knew how to commit. Or worse, went back to her erstwhile ex-boyfriend. He had a sinking feeling that sooner or later, she would. He didn't know how he would deal with that.

He was falling in love with her, and while a routine thing in most relationships is to eventually fall in love with one another, for Chuck it was a very uncomfortable realisation.

And he had no idea what to do about it.

Dance practices for the cotillion began the next day. Chuck danced with some girl whose name he barely knew. He didn't even really care to know her name, anyway.

He couldn't keep his eyes off of Blair, who had partnered up with some standby 'white knight' named Prince Theodore. He was rather pretty, thought Chuck, privately dubbing him Princess Theodore.

Oh, sure, he seemed nice enough, holding Blair gently as he led their dancing, twirling her around. Blair looked perfectly at ease, graceful and lithe as she followed the Prince's movements. Blair was picking up the steps almost as soon as they were demonstrated, and the Prince bent his head towards her ear to whisper something that made Blair laugh.

Chuck hated him already.

"Chuck?" his partner asked him impatiently. "Are you paying attention? Practice is over."

"Is it?" Chuck answered her distractedly. "Great."

"You'd better start concentrating a bit more, you know. I'm not going to let you fall behind and make me look stupid when we dance."

"Yeah, whatever," Chuck replied, annoyed. He left his infuriated partner standing alone on the floor as he made a mad dash to get the hell out of there.

Blair was waiting for Chuck in his limo outside the dance studio. "_There _you are!" Blair exclaimed. Chuck leaned into the limo backseat to greet her with a kiss. Blair yanked him off his feet by pulling at his blazer lapels, and they collapsed into the backseat, laughing so hard they lost their breath.

"Well, this doesn't look too familiar," Chuck teased her.

"Where to, Mr. Bass?" his driver asked him.

"Shopping!" Blair cut in before Chuck could reply.

"Oh, no, no, no, I am _not_ going shopping with you." Chuck protested.

"Who said the trip was only about shopping?" Blair asked him, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"I love the way you think!" Chuck replied, pulling the limo door closed. The driver gunned the engine and started negotiating the late afternoon Manhattan traffic while they got cosy in the backseat.

They arrived at the upscale department store and Blair made a beeline for the lingerie department. Chuck trailed behind her, worrying that they'd run into someone they knew, or worse, that someone would capture the scoop in a Kodak moment and forward it to Gossip Girl. This, more than anything, would be hard to explain away as helping a friend shop. She was in the lingerie section, for crying out loud.

Chuck waited until Blair was flicking through a rack of thongs. "Blair, I'm gonna go check out the sound systems, okay?"

Blair stopped flipping through the rack. "Why?" she demanded. "Don't you want to help me out?"

Chuck laughed nervously. "Uh, look around you, Waldorf. You're looking at sexy lingerie, we're not supposed to be seen together – that was _your_ rule, by the way - and it could just lead to some really awkward questions. Not to mention, it might be put on that gossip bitch's blog."

"Oh, of course," Blair said slowly, realising what he was getting at. "I'll make it quick, and maybe we can go back to my place?"

"Sorry, Blair, but I really have to get home. Bart's complaining that he doesn't remember what I look like."

"Okay, just let me pay for this and we'll go," Blair said, handing her Black Amex to the cashier. The cashier rang up her items – consisting of an obscenely large amount of lace, Chuck noted, slightly irritated. It was like she always wanted to have sex these days.

Though he'd never admit it to her, she was kind of tiring him out. Bart hadn't really complained about not seeing him – it was unlikely he'd ever do that – but he needed a break.

They didn't get together over Thanksgiving. Blair texted him, left him voice mail messages and visited his building, but he didn't want to see her.

He didn't sleep with anyone else in the interim, and he missed her, but the pressure was building up. She was taking up the remainder of the space in every room, regardless of whether she was in there with him or not. Her perfume clung to his sweaters, she occupied his nearly every thought, and when it was left to him to take care of his own needs, it was Blair he saw in his mind's eye.

And during the time that he didn't see her, he fell even more hopelessly in love with her.


	7. So Much for a Happy Ending

_Author's Notes:_Warning: we have now entered 'Hi, Society' territory.

**Chapter Seven: So Much for a Happy Ending**

_B – let's catch up. I'll come 2 ur place 2nite after dance practice. xxx C_

Beep! Beep! Beep!

_C – oh so u've decided 2 resurface? Yeah, fine, c u then. – B_

The first dance practice after Thanksgiving was the first time Chuck and Blair had laid eyes on one another in just over a week. Blair stole glances at Chuck with zealous regularity during the practice, one perfectly sculpted eyebrow quirked, her gaze clearly asking him, "What the f- is _up_?" For once, Chuck was grateful for the stream of mindless chatter his partner (what the hell _was_ her name, anyway?) filled the time with. He didn't have to linger too long on Blair's haughty expression, and he felt a little less like dirt if he avoided looking at her.

He couldn't avoid her forever, though. He'd proposed to visit her at her penthouse after the practice, and as much as he wanted to turn and run away, he figured he'd better make good on his promise, especially since he'd basically disappeared over Thanksgiving.

Chuck knocked on Blair's shut bedroom door. "Blair?" He heard her padding over to the door at her leisure, and the squeak of the doorknob as she twisted it and opened the door.

"Chuck," she said. "Long time, no see. Or hear. What the hell was that you pulled over Thanksgiving, anyway?"

"Well, uh, I needed some time to myself, but I'm here now, and I have missed you like... like I don't even know what!" Chuck exclaimed, giving her a winning smile. Blair stepped back, allowing him to step over the threshold. He shut the door behind him and flicked the lock before scooping Blair up and backing her against the wardrobe door, where he began kissing her feverishly.

"The backlog must have been _hell_," Blair commented, smiling devilishly.

"You have _no_ idea," Chuck said, tipping her face up and kissing her again. She let him kiss her briefly before pulling away, none too gently.

"What's up?" Chuck asked.

Blair wasn't smiling anymore. "You should've known better than to pull that disappearance thing on me. I really missed you, and more than that, I was confused. I didn't know where you were and I kept hoping that you'd come around, but you just... basically ignored me for a week, I guess."

"What's your point? I'm here now, right?" Chuck said impatiently.

"That's not really the point I was making..." Blair said.

"Come on, time's ticking, I can see the stack of books on your desk. Let's regroup, shall we?" Chuck suggested, taking her hand and leading her to the bed.

"Hmm... ok_ay_," Blair murmured as Chuck lowered her onto the bed and settled in beside her, his nimble fingers relearning her and what she liked most of all, his hands cupping her curves. And her own hands were keeping busy, unfastening buttons and belts and zippers, teasing him with light fingers all the while...

"Blair?" he spoke tentatively into the silence after they'd surfaced.

"Mmm?" Blair answered.

"I missed you too," Chuck said. Blair touched his cheek tenderly.

"How could you not have?" she said finally. "I keep rocking your world."

"That you do," Chuck agreed, diving back under the covers with her for round two.

A couple of days later, he and Nate were walking down the streets of the Upper East Side when his best friend turned to him and asked him if he'd noticed anything different about Blair. Chuck had been dreading this moment ever since he and Blair had begun their increasingly-formal arrangement.

"She does have a certain... _glow_ about her, doesn't she?" Chuck conceded. _A glow I've helped to put there. People _do_ say that swallowing has health benefits..._

"I don't know. I think I might miss her," Nate continued, interrupting Chuck's reverie.

"Trust me, man, you don't miss her," Chuck replied shortly.

"I've gotta know if she's seeing someone. Hey, you two are pretty close, right? Could you find out who she's seeing? I mean, who better?"

"Who better indeed," Chuck answered darkly, mostly to himself.

"Thanks, man," Nate said gratefully, not noticing the edge that had crept into Chuck's voice.

It all started to collapse from that point on. Nate showed up to Blair's penthouse, wearing the green cashmere sweater Blair had bought him a while ago, and interrupting a particularly steamy make-out session between Chuck and Blair.

As soon as he heard his best friend's voice echoing in the downstairs foyer Chuck knew, with a sense of regret, that his and Blair's relationship was nearing its expiration date, and he slipped out of Blair's room to eavesdrop on her conversation with Nate, feeling a thousand little knives penetrate his heart with each tender word Nate graced Blair with.

There was something about a pendant in the shape of a heart, which was of largely inconsequential importance compared to the _much_ more horrifying development of Nate asking to be Blair's escort to the cotillion. No, actually, it was more like he'd begged for it, thought Chuck disdainfully as he left Blair's penthouse via the back stairwell.

He hadn't stuck around for long after hearing Blair accept Nate's invitation.

He typed two words into the 'Create Message' box on his cell phone and hit 'Send'.

_Have fun._

Blair didn't reply. Perhaps she, too, knew it was over.

The night of the cotillion arrived, and Chuck danced with his whiny escort, his body taking over with the steps with no intervention from his mind. He was going through the motions.

Blair was smiling, happier than he'd ever seen her, as Nate whirled her around the dance floor. They moved in perfect unison, each anticipating the response of the other so flawlessly Chuck could have sworn it was an extrasensory function.

Something caught his eye, however, when she turned in his direction.

The Erickson Beamon necklace he'd given her for her seventeenth birthday encircled her swan's neck, each teardrop diamond pendant catching the light, making her the most beautiful girl in the entire room. He didn't want it to happen, but his heart lifted when he saw his gift displayed as God intended. She was breathtaking.

Accompanying Chuck noticing Blair's choice of jewellery was an epiphany, the likes of which had never before entered his consciousness. His mind was firmly set on his next course of action when he was jolted back to reality by the crack of Carter Baizen's jaw as Nate punched him.

_Oh. That. _Chuck remembered. He'd been planting the idea of Carter Baizen being Blair's secret lover in Nate's mind for the better part of a week, hoping to keep the heat off him, and preventing Nate from finding out who was really warming Blair's bed almost daily.

Nate was immediately escorted out and Chuck seized the opportunity to dance with Blair. He was about to settle in completely to the feeling of complete, utter joy when Blair realised Chuck's role in Nate punching Carter. She snarled at him, "This thing between us? It's over. For good," and, like Cinderella fleeing the ball at midnight, rushed out of the Palace Hotel ballroom.

_I have to tell her how I feel or she'll never forgive me_, Chuck thought frantically.

"Blair!" he yelled after her in vain, chasing her through the hallways as quickly as his formal attire and shiny leather shoes would allow. He asked a bystander if they'd seen Blair, and she gestured upstairs. "Thanks," he tossed out, continuing his mad dash up the staircase in hot pursuit of Blair.

"I have to tell her that I'm in love with her," Chuck half-shouted to himself.

The sight that greeted Chuck when he reached the landing, however, quickly shattered his heart into pieces. Blair was being led into a hotel room by Nate Archibald, his lips all over her neck, crushing her delicate body against his.

Nate caught his eye over the top of Blair's head and lifted his chin in an unmistakeable 'I-win-again' gesture, winking at Chuck. It was all Chuck could do to smile back weakly at his friend before Blair pushed Nate into the room and shut the door after them.

Chuck couldn't think properly.

_Run_.

He dashed up to his own suite, threw clothes, shoes, toiletries and alcohol feverishly into suitcases, gathered his luggage up, called his driver, and pulled the door of his suite shut, never looking back. He took the elevator down to the ground floor and left through the front doors, meeting his driver at the curb.

"Where to, Mr. Bass?" his driver asked him.

"The airport," Chuck replied, his eyes landing on the early edition of the newspaper in his driver's hands. Blair and Nate were pictured on the page, and the fortune of diamonds about her neck seemed to taunt him. Even in greyscale, they sparkled. Blair's bright smile shone out from the page.

He turned away and got into the limousine, keeping his head bowed. It was really over.


End file.
